Well, now. I suppose it was only a matter of time.
No one can run forever.
I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly, waiting for the telltale click of the hammer-release, microseconds before darkness. But it didn’t come. I began to sweat.
No one should be forced to know their demise is imminent and then be made to wait. It is an unbearable torment to know your time on this plane has come to an end, yet listen to the ticking of the clock on the wall delaying the inevitable. This cancer in my mind gnawed at my sanity as the seconds slipped past.
I continued to exhale the remaining air from my lungs. Soon, I would need to take another breath. What a cruel fate to know that I might be interrupted by an ounce of hot lead caroming around inside my skull, tearing chunks of nervous tissue and compressing them into a useless pool of viscera.
I sucked in air. My calm was officially gone. I suppressed a scream of outrage at my treatment. To know that death had come to escort me hence and to stand, impatiently staring at my wristwatch while he chats up the receptionist was infuriating. Doesn’t he know that I have places to be? This isn’t his lunch break. He doesn’t get to decide my time has come and then push the appointment back by an hour!
I forcibly expelled all the air from my lungs again, this time refusing to draw another breath. If the gunman won’t pull the trigger, I’ll pass out from temporary asphyxiation. Then, at least, I won’t have to wait any longer for the finale. I can sleep right through it.
FUCK THIS, I’M THROUGH WAITIâ€“